


The Love of a Pirate

by TheArchiveGhost



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 19:03:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7813528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArchiveGhost/pseuds/TheArchiveGhost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'I’ll break your heart,' Isabela warned, an edge of steel to her playful tone.<br/>'I don’t think you could if you tried.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Love of a Pirate

**Author's Note:**

> This is posted for my friend Shiro, whom I wouldn't sell out for all the cornchips in Thedas.

_'I’ll break your heart,' Isabela warned, an edge of steel to her playful tone._

_'I don’t think you could if you tried,' Rosalin breathed back, nipping at the sensitive spot on the other woman’s jaw and tightening her hold around Isabela’s waist. She reached down with one hand to support Isabela as she wrapped her legs around Rosalin’s hips - and hey, if holding her up meant Rosalin finally got to grab Isabela’s ass, then all the better. Isabela breathed out a laugh, her head falling back to allow Rosalin better access. Rosalin responded with vigor, only too happy to oblige, and peppered bites and kisses down the elegant column of Isabela’s neck._

_'Well,' Isabela chuckled throatily, tangling her fingers in Rosalin’s hair, 'don’t ever say I didn’t warn you.'_

 

'She did warn me,' Rosalin murmured to herself, staring down at the letter on her desk. She had already read and reread the Blighted thing a thousand times over since Isabela had left, but every time was like one of Isabela’s daggers (aptly named Backstabber and Heartbreaker, Rosalin thought) cutting another knick in Rosalin’s sensitive flesh. Come to think of it, everyone had warned her, but Rosalin had always been one to make her own decisions, consequences be damned. She didn’t know what she was trying to accomplish, keeping the letter, but she couldn’t just _throw it away_ , if for no other reason than because it was all she had left of the Rivaini. Well, that, and a love bite on her left breast that hadn’t fully faded away yet.

'You all right, Hawke?' Rosalin huffed out a startled laugh - she had forgotten that Varric and the rest of her party were in her house. He, Fenris, Merrill, and Anders had reached some kind of agreement without her that she shouldn’t be left alone. She couldn’t honestly say she didn’t appreciate their company, but she’d never in a thousand years tell them so.

'Everything’s peachy, thanks. Couldn’t be better.' She turned from her desk to face her friend, who was standing in the doorway to the study. He stared at her for a moment, eyebrow cocked, looking completely unconvinced, but Rosalin merely smiled at him brightly. She knew he could tell her smile was only surface deep, but he shook his head after a moment and gestured over his shoulder, back towards the sitting room where the rest of the friends were undoubtedly waiting for her to come out. With one last glance at Isabela’s letter ( _...I am gone. I’m sorry it has to be this way…._ ), she followed the dwarf out into the hallway.

'You can talk about it, you know,' Varric said after a few silent steps.

‘What, and have it end up in one of your novels?’ Rosalin genuinely laughed at that - the thought of hers and Isabela’s love life (or lack thereof, as it were) ending up as one of Varric’s sordid stories was positively too much.

‘Not to me,’ Varric chuckled, punching her lightly on the arm. ‘Maybe to Daisy or Blondy. They’re good at that emotional shit. But not to me.’ She glanced down at him, and he winked at her conspiratorially.

‘Daisy’ and ‘Blondy’, along with Fenris (‘Elf’) were waiting for them in the sitting room. Rosalin usually avoided the sitting room - of all the places in the lavish Hawke estate, this was the one that bore the most signs of Rosalin’s mother. Leandra Hawke had once said that what she missed most when she was living in their small house in Ferelden was her mother’s sitting room, so when Rosalin had purchased the Amell estate back, the first thing Leandra had done had been to decorate it the way it had been when she was a child. Since Rosalin had never known her grandmother, the only association she had with the room was her own mother. The thought was a particularly painful one, so she shoved it down in the corner of her mind, where she sent all the rest of the things she didn’t want to deal with. She hitched her signature smirk back in place and stepped into the room to face her friends.

 

Aveline came by later that night, after Anders had retired to one of the guest rooms, Fenris had retreated to the courtyard to hit things with his sword, and Varric and Merrill had gone to the garden. Rosalin wasn’t particularly in the mood to discuss strategies with her friend, but she also knew that putting it off would only put extra strain on the already overworked Captain of the Guard. Besides, she hadn’t seen much of Aveline lately, and it wouldn’t do to have her oldest friend in the city think she was avoiding her.

‘Do you have everything in order?’ Aveline asked without preamble as she settled herself in the armchair across from Rosalin’s desk in her study. Rosalin bit back a heavy sigh - she’d known, of course, that Aveline would want to get right down to business, but she just didn’t _want_ to deal with it right then.

‘You make it sound as if I’m dying,’ Rosalin quipped, rather than snap and aggravate Aveline any further. ‘If that’s the case, you’ll need to witness my verbal will - everything I own goes to Hades.’ Hearing his name, Rosalin’s mabari lifted his head off his paws from where he lounged in front of the fireplace, and gave a lazy _woof_ before settling back down to sleep. ‘The lazy oaf still deserves it more than Carver or Gamlen do.’ Aveline did not look impressed.

‘I’m serious, Hawke. This business with the Qun needs to be settled, and it needs to be settled _now_.’ Rosalin sighed out loud this time.

‘I know, Aveline, believe me. We’ll be ready tomorrow morning.’

‘Good,’ Aveline nodded once and stood up. ‘I’ll meet you at the gates to the Qunari compound tomorrow morning, then.’ She turned to leave the study.

‘I feel like I never see you except when you need me, anymore,’ Rosalin called after her friend. Aveline didn’t turn back, but Rosalin heard her chuckle drifting back down the hall as she left.

 

Their meeting with the Arishok did....not go well, to say the least. Rosalin and her friends sprinted through the dock district, dispatching groups of Qunari as they went. Rosalin had never been one with a head for diplomacy, and apparently she had said just the wrong thing, because one minute they had been talking relatively peacefully, and the next there was a spear sprouting out of the neck of the guard next to her. And it had only gone downhill from there, Rosalin thought testily, shooting a fireball into the face of one of the elvhen sympathizers. The elf went down with a gurgling scream, and Rosalin mentally blocked her ears. They fought across what felt like the entire length and breadth of Kirkwall, finally making it to the steps of the Viscount’s Keep in Hightown. They met First Enchanter Orsino there, and Knight-Commander Meredith joined them minutes later, right in time to catch the very end of a brutal skirmish with a group of Qunari. Meredith and Orsino argued between each other over who had the biggest weapon (Rosalin assumed, she wasn’t really listening) before Rosalin finally decided she’d had enough of their bickering.

‘Hey!’ she shouted, successfully getting both their attention. ‘I’m going to the Keep, and I’m gonna end this. Are you coming or not?’ Orsino and Meredith stared at her in shock before Orsino shook his head, a slight smile on his face.

‘You’ll need a diversion, my Lady Hawke. Allow me to clear the way, so you might enter the Keep unimpeded.’

‘No,’ Meredith interjected, predictably. ‘We need an open assault, to show them we will not back down.’ Rosalin glanced down at the half-dozen Qunari bodies littering the ground around her.

‘Oh, I think we’ve made the point pretty clear,’ Varric piped up, flashing one of his winning roguish grins.

‘There’s a lot of bodies back there,’ Merrill added in her clear voice.

‘Orsino, you create a distraction,’ Rosalin ordered. The mage nodded once, and all of them sprinted up the stairs to hide behind the wide stone pillars. Rosalin peered around her column, assessing the sight before her. Eight Qunari stood at the top of the steps up to the Keep doors, looking very big and intimidating. Rosalin ducked back behind the pillar and took a deep breath.

‘Well, Orsino,’ she said, turning to the First Enchanter, ‘I sure hope you know what you’re doing.’

‘I’ll make sure you get in there. Don’t worry, my lady.’

‘Those sound an awful lot like last words,’ Rosalin murmured to Fenris, who stood right behind her. Fenris didn’t make any indication that he’d heard her. ‘Varric would have laughed.’ Fenris shot her an exasperated look, and Rosalin smirked at him before looking around the pillar again. Orsino was walking up the middle of the wide walkway, bold as anything, looking completely unconcerned. He shouted something Rosalin couldn’t quite make out, and the Qunari at the top of the stairs shouted a challenge back. Orsino nodded his head deeply - their agreed-upon signal - and Rosalin gestured for her party to sneak around the back side of the pillar they hid behind and made their way slowly up the wall under the overhang beside the walkway. They were halfway up when Orsino shot a massive blast of energy - far bigger than anything Rosalin could have done - right into the middle of the group of Qunari. They bellowed in anger and charged down the steps as he shot another one, providing the distraction and access Rosalin and her group needed to sprint the rest of the way up the corridor, then up the stairs and through the door.

They met no more Qunari on their way through the Keep, but came across many dead bodies, Qunari, city guard, and civilian alike, before the came to the main hall at the back of the palatial building. The Arishok was standing in the middle of the room as if waiting for her, and Rosalin spotted what looked disturbingly like the bald head of the Viscount resting, sans body, just to his left.

‘We have guests,’ the Arishok rumbled, and the nobles standing behind him, surrounded by Qunari warriors, murmured and shuffled nervously. ‘I’ve been expecting you.’ The hulking Qunari took a few steps towards Rosalin and her party, swinging his giant axe over his shoulder like it weighed nothing. ‘Tell me, Hawke. You know I am denied Par Vollen until the Tome of Koslun is found. How would you see this conflict resolved without it?’ There was a scuffle from behind Rosalin, and then a solid thump as the body of one of the Arishok’s guards fell just within Rosalin’s periphery.

‘I believe I can answer that.’ It took every ounce of willpower Rosalin possessed to not whirl around at the sound of Isabela’s voice. Instead, she turned her head slowly to see the Rivaini pirate striding into the room calmly, as if nothing were amiss, a huge book clutched under one arm. She didn’t give Rosalin even a glance as she walked right past her and up to the Arishok, placing the tome in his hands. ‘I believe you’ll find it _mostly_ undamaged. Sorry it took so long to get here,’ she said, finally glancing at Rosalin with a smirk. ‘It took a while to get through all the fighting. I’m sure you understand.’

‘I thought you’d be long gone by now,’ Rosalin responded acerbically, raising one eyebrow.

‘I was halfway to Ostwick when I knew I had to turn around. Pathetic really.’

‘Yeah,’ Rosalin muttered, feeling a strange pang in her chest. ‘Pathetic.’

‘Would you two just kiss and make up already,’ Varric grumbled from behind them, and Rosalin shot a glare over her shoulder at the dwarf, who looked completely unrepentant.

‘The relic is reclaimed,’ the Arishok rumbled, interrupting...whatever it was that Rosalin was feeling at the moment. ‘I am now free to return to Par Vollen. _With_ the thief.’

‘What?’ Isabela demanded, and Rosalin snapped her head around to stare at the Qunari.

‘You thought you could just get away with stranding them here for four years?’ Fenris pointed out.

‘ _You_ are not helping,’ Rosalin gritted out at the elf.

‘She stole the Tome of Koslun. She must return to us and submit to the Ben-Hassrath.’

‘Absolutely not,’ Rosalin said firmly. ‘You have your relic. You can leave us in peace. _Without_ Isabela.’ Isabela shot Rosalin a grateful look, but Rosalin refused to turn her head towards the other woman, instead staring down the Arishok.

‘Then you leave me no choice.’ The Arishok sounded almost - almost - regretful. ‘I challenge you, Hawke. You and I will battle to the death. The thief will be the prize.’

‘Are you sure she’s worth it, Chuckles?’ Varric asked jokingly - at least, Rosalin thought he was joking.

‘I guess so,’ Rosalin replied, taking her staff off her back and shooing her companions away as she and the Arishok prepared to face off.

Rosalin had fought a lot of battles in her time. She had faced down hordes of darkspawn, slain dragons, and put walking corpses back to rest. She would have taken any of them over the Arishok.

The huge Qunari was like a force of nature - not only did he have his brute strength to rely on, but he was also surprisingly agile and light on his feet. If Rosalin hadn’t been training herself relentlessly over the last few years to be quick and graceful in battle, instead of just relying on her magic to get her through, she wouldn’t have lasted thirty seconds. There was a moment - one heartstopping moment towards the very end - when the Arishok had her up in the air by her throat, that Rosalin genuinely thought she was done for. But a quick flick across his wrist with the dagger Rosalin kept up her sleeve - upon Isabela’s insistence, Rosalin thought wryly - made him loosen his grip enough for Rosalin to kick away, landing lightly on the balls of her feet, and shoot the strongest bolt of energy she could muster right into the Arishok’s face. He stumbled back, clutching his eyes, and Rosalin took his moment of blindness slash her staff through the air, a blade of fire cutting her opponent right across the chest. He stumbled back and fell to his knees before toppling backwards.

He was still moving weakly, and Rosalin waited tensely for a moment before it was clear that he wasn’t getting up again. She edged up to him cautiously, aware that the whole room was deathly silent. It was only because of this silence that she was able to make out what the Arishok said once she had stepped into his line of vision.

‘Finish it,’ he demanded, his voice still intimidating despite the ominous, wet wheezing sound he made with every breath. ‘Finish it.’ With one last flick of her staff, she hit him with another bolt of energy, and the Arishok was no more. His guards didn’t even wait until his corpse had stopped smoldering before they turned silently as one and strode out of the hall, leaving their vanquished leader behind them.

‘Well,’ Knight-Commander Meredith said after a few stunned moments of silence. ‘It looks like Kirkwall has a new Champion.’ She sounded extremely grudging in bestowing Rosalin with this - largely meaningless - title, and the bitter look on her face was almost worth the cheer that went up through the hall from the remaining nobles, and the city guardsmen and Templars who had filed in when they saw the Qunari leaving. Almost.

 

Later that night, back at the Hawke estate, Rosalin reclined in the comfortable armchair before the fireplace in her study, her feet soaking in a basin full of hot water, lavender, and rosewater. Her head was tilted back against the plush cushion, and she was very nearly asleep when she heard the soft noises of someone discreetly entering the room.

‘If you’re here to rob me, I must warn you that I have a mabari warhound waiting for my signal,’ she called out idly, not bothering to open her eyes. She was sure she knew who had managed to get in without causing Hades to immediately jump to her defense, anyways.

‘He’s not a very good guard dog, you know,’ Isabela responded lightly from behind the chair. ‘Bodahn let me in, and the great mutt didn’t make a single move to stop him.’ Hades had followed Isabela into the study, and he came around Rosalin’s chair to sit down at her left side and lay his huge head on her thigh.

‘I need a better security detail,’ Rosalin muttered, finally opening her eyes when she heard Isabela come around to settle in front of the fire beside Hades. Rosalin studied her for a moment for the first time all day. She hadn’t seen the pirate in two months, and she was almost expecting something to be drastically different about her. Rosalin certainly felt that she had changed, it would only be fair that Isabela had, as well. But the Rivaini looked as perfect as she had when she’d left, with nothing outwardly amiss. She was illuminated softly by the glow from the fireplace, bringing out the warm bronze tones to her dark skin and hair. Rosalin longed to tangle her fingers in that hair, longed to drag Isabela’s mouth to hers, to make up for all the time they’d lost, but she forced herself to stay still. Isabela turned to meet her eye after several minutes of silence, and they stared at each other before Rosalin finally broke eye contact to turn her gaze into the fire instead.

‘Look, I’m sorry, all right,’ Isabela finally said. Rosalin made no move to indicate the surprise she felt at Isabela actually apologizing. ‘I shouldn’t have taken that stupid book and I shouldn’t have left. And I should definitely have left more than just that little note.’ Rosalin snorted. ‘It wasn’t my finest moment, all right?’ Isabela was clearly uncomfortable with this string of confessions, and Rosalin debated whether or not to relieve the poor woman. She finally sighed and sat up straight in her chair, taking her feet out of their warm bath and placing them on the towel she had laid out earlier.

‘We all make mistakes,’ she said, mouth lifting in a slight smile. She leaned forward so she was almost, but not quite, touching the other women. Isabela’s skin looked so warm and inviting, practically begging Rosalin to run her hands over it - over the well-defined muscles of her arms, over her toned stomach, across her lush backside….Roslin physically shook her head and leaned back again. She didn’t want to invite any more of those thoughts before she knew that Isabela was there to stay.

Isabela seemed to read Rosalin’s thoughts, for she smiled - a bit sadly, but Rosalin missed that - and stood, unfolding sinuously from her spot on the floor. Rosalin studiously ignored the generous portion of Isabela’s thigh she could see through the slit in her tunic. Isabela turned to leave, pausing briefly by Rosalin’s chair and leaning to press a lingering kiss to the top of Rosalin’s head, before slipping out as quietly as she’d come in. Rosalin stayed how she was for a long time, leaned slightly over in her chair and staring into the crackling fire. She finally leaned back in her chair in a huff, reaching up to run her fingers agitatedly through her hair.

‘Andraste’s tits, this is bad.’

 

It was another whole month before Rosalin talked to Isabela again, and if she’d had her own way, it probably would have been longer. But she had meddling friends, and between Merrill trilling about how lovely it was that Isabela was back, and Varric none-too-subtly trying to make Rosalin jealous by casually mentioning that he’d seen Isabela going into the Blooming Rose more than a few times, she finally broke.

‘Fine!’ she shouted, throwing her hands up in the air. They were in Anders’ clinic, lounging around until they got word of a new job. Anders’ clinic was always busy, however much down time the rest of them had, so it was easier for them to meet there than anywhere else. Anders glanced over at her outburst, but didn’t pause in his ministrations of his patient, while Varric looked smug, Merrill looked disgustingly happy, and Fenris looked indifferent. ‘I’ll go talk to her.’

‘I’m glad you came to this conclusion completely on your own,’ Varric responded magnanimously, leaning back on his rickety chair and folding his hands behind his head, looking disgustingly pleased with himself.

‘But you told her she should,’ Merrill piped up, her big luminous eyes completely guileless.

‘I know, Daisy,’ Varric responded with a smirk. ‘Our Champion here just needed a little push.’ Anders’ shoulders tensed ever so slightly. Things had been strange between them after an encounter shortly after Isabela left, but the apostate was too kindhearted to say anything about it. Still, Rosalin always felt a little guilty talking about Isabela when he was there.

‘Maker take you all,’ Rosalin muttered under her breath as she stalked out of Anders’ clinic, Varric satisfied chuckled following her out the doors.

She found Isabela, predictably, at the bar in the Hanged Man, quaffing down pints of the swill they called ale.

‘Figured I’d find you here,’ she said by way of greeting, plopping herself down on the stool next to Isabela’s. ‘Can’t believe you’re still drink that stuff.’

‘You take what you can get, darling,’ Isabela responded. Neither of them said anything for a while after, but Isabela spoke as soon as Rosalin opened her mouth to say something. ‘I have a favor to ask of you.’ Rosalin groaned.

‘Of course you do. What is it this time?’ She couldn’t hide the exasperation in her tone.

‘I’m sorry, Hawke. This is the last one, I promise. Then if things go how I want them to, I’ll be out of your hair again.’ Isabela smiled bitterly. ‘For good this time.’ Despite the cool exterior Rosalin was carefully showing, she felt her stomach drop down to her toes.

‘I don’t want you out of my hair,’ she whispered, staring down at her hands. Isabela didn’t respond to that, and Rosalin was immensely grateful. That was as much vulnerability as she was willing to show at any one time.

‘Anyways,’ Isabela said after a moment. ‘I know how to get to Castillon. He’s still pissed about the Tome of Koslun, and I’ve had to lay low the last few weeks so he wouldn’t find me.’ Rosalin glanced around at the other patrons of The Hanged Man. Every last one of them looked like they would sell Isabela out for a crust of bread.

‘This is laying low?’

‘Hiding in plain sight, darling.’ There was a genuine note of mirth in Isabela’s tone, and Rosalin couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corner of her mouth. ‘That aside, I’ve been tracking one of Castillon’s associates, Velasco. He’s a regular at the Blooming Rose, and that’s where we’ll get to him.’

‘The Blooming Rose?’ Rosalin asked, a sneaking suspicion growing in the back of her mind. ‘Does Varric know you’re doing this?’

‘Varric? Of course he does.’ Isabela sounded surprised. ‘He’s the one who’s been helping me track down Castillon, since I can’t exactly go traipsing around Kirkwall looking for him. I figured he was the one who told you-what? What is it?’ This was asked presumably because Rosalin had dropped her head to the bar surface with a loud _thunk_.

‘That Blighted dwarf knew _exactly_ what he was doing,’ she ground out between clenched teeth.

‘What?’ Isabela actually sounded a bit concerned at that.

‘Never mind,’ Rosalin sighed with a wave of her hand, silently vowing to have a stern word with her friend once this was all over. ‘So what are we going to do once we find Velasco?’

‘You’re going to give me to him.’ Isabela said it as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Rosalin stared at her for a moment, and Isabela gazed back calmly.

‘I’m sorry, I must have misheard you. I’m going to-’

‘To give me to Velasco, yes.’

‘And this is going to accomplish...what, exactly?’ Isabela sighed deeply.

‘He and Castillon work together in the slave trade - they’re even sharing an old warehouse down by the docks. I have it on good authority that there’s a shipping container there holding some documents that would implicate Castillon in all sorts of nasty dealings that he would rather not have his name tied to. If I can get my hands on those, I can hold that over Castillon’s head and use them to make all sorts of bargains with him.’ Isabela grinned wickedly, clearly looking forward to this much more than Rosalin was.

‘All right. Say I agree to this clearly insane plan of yours. How do you propose I _give you_ to Velasco without it looking suspicious?’

‘Oh, I’ve got it all planned out,’ Isabela replied, sounding positively delighted. ‘I just need you to utilize some of those tremendous powers of persuasion that got you to where you are now, plus a little bit of acting. You’re a noble now, I’m sure you’ve gotten used to acting by now.’ Rosalin pulled a face at her and Isabela laughed.

Rosalin had to admit, Isabela had this scheme fairly thoroughly planned out. She still wasn’t entirely thrilled with the prospect of turning her...friend...over to a known slaver, but Isabela seemed to think it would work. And it wasn’t like they hadn’t gotten each other out of tight places before, when things had gone south.

‘What happens if you need backup once you get to the warehouse? I don’t imagine Velasco will just let you wander around looking in shipping containers.’

‘I’ll leave a trail from the Blooming Rose down to the docks for you to follow. You can sneak in, you’ve done it before, then hide until I need you.’

‘Right.’ Rosalin had to carefully avoid making eye contact - Isabela could persuade, and on occasion _had_ persuaded, Rosalin to do anything with one of her sultry looks. ‘Fine,’ she agreed after a while. Isabela grinned broadly, and gestured for the barkeep to bring them two pints.

‘You won’t regret it, Hawke.’ Isabela sounded practically giddy - Roslin guessed the excitement of possibly being out from under Castillon’s thumb far outweighed the possible risks in her eyes.

‘I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.’ Rosalin took a long drink from her tankard and then pulled a face. ‘I’m already regretting _that_.’ Isabela laughed her rich, throaty laugh, and Rosalin knew she was in trouble.

 

The plan went off surprisingly well, much to Rosalin’s surprise. Isabela had planned it down to the last detail, even going so far as to have Rosalin smack her across the face when she was presenting her to Velasco to be taken to Castillon. Isabela had brought up her hands, ostensibly to hold her reddening cheek, but Rosalin had seen the smile she was hiding. The Blighted pirate had _liked_ it. In the end, to Isabela’s irritation, they had had to kill Castillon - the slaver hadn’t liked Isabela’s proposal of trading her incriminating documents for his ship and her life, so Isabela had to put her quick blades to work and ended the slaver’s career permanently. To celebrate, Isabela had taken everyone to a tavern that had actual beer and treated them all to a few pints.

‘On Castillon,’ she had explained with a wink, plunking Rosalin’s tankard down in front of her. Rosalin noticed that Isabela seemed so much happier just in the last hour since they she had killed Castillon - freedom was a good look on her.

As they all left the tavern that night - after several more pints shared amongst them, Isabela turned to head back towards the docks, instead of going with Rosalin and the rest back to the Hawke estate.

‘Wait!’ Rosalin called after her, and Isabela stopped, but didn’t turn around. ‘Aren’t you...aren’t you staying?’ Isabela’s shoulders were tense, no sign of her previous levity in her posture.

‘I told you, Hawke. This was the last favor I would ask of you. I’ll be out of your hair now. I’m still taking Castillon’s ship.’

‘You’re just...leaving? Just like that?’ Rosalin couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice. Isabela finally turned around, her face a careful study of calm, and the rest of Rosalin’s friends discreetly stepped away.

‘I don’t like staying in one place, Hawke. You know this.’ Rosalin couldn’t deny that - of course she knew it, had known it all along. But still….Isabela reached up and laid one hand on Rosalin’s cheek, and despite herself Rosalin leaned in to the touch, closing her eyes.

‘Please don’t,’ Rosalin murmured, not attempting to break contact despite her protest. ‘If you’re going to leave again, just...please.’ Isabela removed her hand, and Rosalin opened her eyes in time to see the hem of her tunic slip around the corner. Rosalin stared after her, unable to believe she’d really gone. Again.

‘C’mon, Rosalin,’ Varric said gently, coming up and laying a hand on her arm. It was Varric’s use of her real name, rather than one of his silly nicknames, that really did it, and Rosalin reached up to roughly wipe the tears from her eyes.

‘Let’s go,’ she said brusquely, whipping around and leading the way back towards Hightown.

 

Rosalin didn’t sleep that night. She tried to, certainly, but ended up spending almost two hours tossing and turning in bed, unable to find a comfortable position, and unable to quiet her racing thoughts. She finally gave up on the idea all together and got up, padding barefoot down to the kitchens in her shift to see if anything was left out that she could snack on. The servants by now knew their mistress’s nighttime eating habits, and had taken to leaving out apples, bread rolls, and honey butter, which pleased Rosalin to no end.

She was spreading butter on one of the rolls when she heard a soft noise behind her. She made no move to indicate that she’d heard it, but her grip on the knife shifted to a more defensive one, and she had a spell ready at the tips of her fingers if she ended up needing it. She heard the noise again, a quiet shuffle as if someone were trying to walk quietly down the corridor outside the kitchens without really sneaking. Whoever it was was right at the kitchen door then, about five feet from Rosalin’s position at the big table in the center of the room, and when Rosalin heard them step into the kitchen she whipped around quickly, the hand holding the butter knife flying out in front of her.

‘It’s me!’ the intruder exclaimed in a loud whisper, and a hand struck out with lightning fast reflexes to wrap around Rosalin’s wrist. Rosalin stared up at Isabela, unable to believe she was really seeing her. Her grip on the butter knife slackened, and the makeshift weapon clattered to the floor.

‘What are you doing here?’ Rosalin had kind of intended for it to come out harshly, but it instead left her mouth in a breathy whisper, and Isabela raised one eyebrow in amusement.

‘Well, I was getting my crew ready to set sail, when I realized I had some unfinished business in Hightown.’ She had yet to release Rosalin’s wrist, and Rosalin was becoming increasingly distracted by the thumb Isabela was lightly rubbing across the sensitive skin at the base of her palm.

‘Oh?’ Rosalin choked out, her mind completely unable to come up with a clever retort.

‘Yes. I love you, Rosalin.’ Rosalin stared at her.

‘Excuse me, what?’ She had been hoping for something more witty, maybe something scathing and cutting, but her brain was completely failing her.

‘I love you, Maker take me, and I’m finding myself wanting to stay in one place for a while. Probably for the first time in my life.’

‘Well. I...I mean...I….’ Rosalin stammered, and Isabela sighed in exasperation. She gave Rosalin’s wrist a gentle tug, pulling her closer, and brought her head down to press a kiss to Rosalin’s slack mouth. It took only a moment for Rosalin’s body to react in the only way it knew how - she wrapped her free arm around Isabela’s neck, tangling her fingers in that luxuriously soft brown hair she had missed so much, and responded with as much enthusiasm as she could. Isabela chuckled into her mouth and wrapped her own free arm around Rosalin’s waist, bringing their bodies as close together as she could get them. Rosalin sighed into Isabela’s mouth - she had known, of course, that she had missed the other woman, but she didn’t know quite how much until she was tasting her again, their bodies pressed together. The hand on Rosalin’s wrist shifted slightly to twine their fingers together, her thumb lightly stroking Rosalin’s palm, and each brush sent a thrill right to Rosalin’s belly.

‘I love you,’ Isabela whispered again, breaking away from Rosalin’s lips to press a kiss to her jaw.

‘Andraste’s tits, I’ve missed you,’ Rosalin breathed, her head falling back, eyes closed blissfully. Isabela chuckled.

‘You’ve always had a way with words, my Hawke.’ She pulled away, and Rosalin almost whined in protest, before Isabela tugged on her arm with a smirk and led them out of the kitchens, through the hall, and up the stairs to Rosalin’s bedroom. She closed the door behind them, and then she was on Rosalin again, letting go of Rosalin’s hand to tangle both of her own in her hair, releasing the long black tresses from their bun to let them tumble down Rosalin’s back. Their lips met again, hungrily, and Rosalin’s hands roamed across Isabela’s body as they had itched to do ever since Isabela had left. Isabela walked them backwards towards Rosalin’s bed until she was close enough that they could tumble down together amongst the cushions and blankets, limbs tangling together, both of them laughing breathlessly as their lips were jarred apart from the motion and Rosalin’s kiss landed on the side of Isabela’s nose.

‘I did miss you,’ Rosalin whispered, breaking away from a moment to look into Isabela’s eyes.

‘I think I’ll be stay here for a while, if that’s all right with you.’

‘I think that can be arranged,’ Rosalin grinned. ‘I’ll clear some space in my wardrobe.’

‘I don’t get my own bedroom?’ Isabela protested with a laugh.

‘I am not letting you out of my sight,’ Rosalin nearly growled, nipping lightly at the sensitive spot she remembered so well on Isabela’s perfectly sculpted jaw. Isabela responded with a satisfied sigh, leaning her head back.

‘You know, I think I’ll be all right with that.’

 

Hours or days or years later, the two women lay tangled up in Rosalin’s sheets, Isabela gently twirling Rosalin’s hair around her long slender fingers.

‘Did you mean it?’ Rosalin asked quietly.

‘Hm?’ Isabela’s inquiry was more a half-asleep breath, and Rosalin smiled softly.

‘When you said you love me. Did you mean it, or were you just trying to get me to take you to bed?’ Rosalin kept her tone light, but her concern was real, whether she wanted to show it or not.

‘Of course I meant it,’ Isabela replied sleepily, tightening the one arm that was wrapped around Rosalin’s waist. ‘Getting you into bed was just a welcomed side effect.’

‘Oh. Good. I love you, too, you know.’

‘Yes, I know.’

They fell into a satisfied silence, then, half-asleep, Rosalin murmured, ‘We can’t tell Varric. At least not yet.’

‘Oh? And why would that be.’

‘There’ll be no living with him if he finds out he was right.’

Isabela’s rolled over slightly to muffle her laughter in Rosalin’s hair, and Rosalin took their shift in position to snuggle up as close to Isabela as she could get, her laughter following her into the first peaceful sleep she’d had in months.


End file.
